The Fighters Are The Most Fun To Break
by Myradream
Summary: VERY DARK story, Maggiecentric. Continues with what the Governor started in the Interrogation Room. This Governor is very dark, very violent. Noncon. Extremely Mature. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Will deal with forced captivity, possible stockholm syndrome, and maybe the path to recovery. I haven't decided. For sure there WILL be major character death. GORY. Borrowed chars.
1. Chapter 1

She gasped as he slammed her face into the hard wood of the table moments before she had been standing in front of, attempting to hide the body that wasn't meant for anyone to see but Glenn. Glenn, Oh God, where was Glenn?! Tears rolled down her cheek, sideways, due to the angle. She blinked them away fiercely, she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her cry.

That was the intention, at least, But The Governor would make her cry, and beg, and plead for everything from death, to more horrible possibilities before everything was said and done.

She exhaled a sound that was more of a hiss, then anything else, as she felt him push his hips against her, bent over the table. His hands began to wander, moving to cup her breasts. He whispered against her ear, his voice grating, and low.

"Now now. Was that so hard?"

To punctuate the choice of words, he ground his hips against her rear, and chuckled at the way she gritted her teeth in response, her hands forming into fists.

" A fighter. Good. The fighters are the most fun to break. "

In an instant, he had entangled his hand into her short brown hair, the other hand snaked it's way down from the breast it had been gripping and to the button of her jeans, with it loose, he began to tug them down unceremoniously.

Maggie struggled against him, but for her efforts, he pulled her head up by the grip he had on her dark locks, and slammed the side of her face with devastating force into the dark wood of the table in the interrogation room. The resulting pain was enough to daze her, the blood dripping quickly from her nose, pooling beneath where she was pinned. She stared at the growing puddle of her own gore, and tried to wish herself away. Away from all of this.

"Nonononono…."

Her chant raw, as she struggled to find a safe place deep in the recesses of her soul. Coming up empty.

The Governor paused in what he was doing, reaching a finger tip into the blood from the injury he had created. Mesmerized. After a moment, he added another finger to the first, gathering as much of the blood as he could, before moving his fingers to push her panties, aside. If she wouldn't be lubricated one way, he was willing to find another, he was resourceful, and she was nothing, if not a list of resources for him to mine. His fingers drove deep within her, exploring his newest territories.

Her tears joined the bloody mess of the table, despite her best efforts she found herself unable to push them away, and what he was doing, the way he touched her, using her own blood to ready his way made her gag. And before she could prevent it, she had vomited up the meager contents of her belly. The apple Glenn had thrown her for breakfast, that morning, and a granola bar she'd found in the bottom of the bag she had carried with her, to find rations. Baby formula, for Lori and Rick's baby. Would the baby survive now, without the sustenance they had been sent to find? She wasn't given long to consider anyones fate but her own, before he set upon her in his rage.

"You disgusting little whore! I should kill you for that!"

He threw her with out ceremony from the table and against the wall of the cell she had been held in. She did her best to brace for impact, but there was nothing for it. She cried out from the pain of it, hearing something crack. With the pain that accompanied it in the location of her ribcage, she had a fair idea of this injury. And she noted with cold gratitude that her physical response to his assault on her had lessened his apparent need for her, the tenting in his bluejeans not straining as it had been when pressed against her not a minute before. She flinched away from him as he raised his hand to strike her, and after a surprising few moments without impact she raised her eyes to him, to see what was keeping him from continuing the assault.

The cold malice that accompanied his smile, made her blood run cold. Instantly she tried to draw her body further away, wincing at the pain of it.

"No. I have different plans for you, Margaret. The least of the things that you will do is betray your people. "

His smile widened as he pulled her to her feet, growling at the door. "MERLE."

Merle unlocked the door from outside, and was in the room moments later, Pausing a moment to take in the site before him. The Governor had a grip on the farmer's daughter's dark hair, and miracle of miracles, she was nearly nude. Topless, of course, and her jeans head been shoved to just below her knees, her panties pushed half to the side, crimson blood along her thigh, and on the Governor's fingers, and most of all, over the face of the girl, he doubted her nose wasn't broken, with the way the blood gushed. He licked his lips, and then let his tongue sit in the place where a tooth had once been, eyes pausing on the heaving breasts of the girl, who had looked away at his obvious appraisal of her body. He coughed a little, glancing back to the Governor as if out of a trance.

"Yes, Sir…?"

The Governor shoved her to his one armed lackey, and muttered, "Clean her up, and restrain her. Don't touch her more then is necessary. " His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Merle, murmuring darkly. "Or I'll be forced to remove your other hand." The mix of the smell of the vomit, and the metallic cling of blood had set him off his current path, but he would regroup, and face her once she was again clean and worthy of his attention.

"Of course, Sir." Merle, mewed. Taking a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, and shackling Maggie's hands together before she had a chance to resist. Shock was setting in, along with the fear of what was to come. She blinked a few times, as Merle led her into the hallway, and draped a rough brown blanket around her shoulders. After a few moments of shuffling along, some bit of reality penetrated her mind, and she began to scream, curdled sounds of terror before she managed one word, terror warping her voice into something surreal as she cried out.

"GLEEEEEEEEEEENNN!"

Immediately, she received the response she was hoping for. The sound of his voice. "MAGGIE! MAGGIE I'm HERE! I'll save you, Maggie, I swear to God!" He was just a few doors away, down the long hallway that was the myriad of Woodbury's holding system for criminals, and enemies of the Governor. He began to hit at the wood of the door, trying his damnedest to break his way out and to her. For her part, Maggie struggled heartily against Merle, and the handcuffs that held her, and if a kind star had been shining, perhaps she could have broken away.

As it was, her cry was cut off before she could finish.

"I lo-". And with a wet sounding smack, Merle used one of the creations of weaponry he had built to replace the hand he had left aboard a roof, long before Maggie and Glenn had even crossed paths, to silence her. She would have fallen to the ground, unconscious from the impact, but he caught her, muttering under his breath about how stupid she was, and how she wouldn't survive a week in Woodbury if she remained so troublesome.

The darkness surrounded her like a welcome cloak, in a long cold night.


	2. Chapter 2

Maggie awoke, confusion mixing with the strong pounding of her head. She attempted to reach up to touch her head, but was prevented by chains. That woke her quicker then a bucket of water would have, and she yelped in surprise, struggling against the metal that prevented her from moving more then a few inches on either side. Attempting to kick in frustration, she was horrified to discover, the chains were not only holding her wrist, but either ankle as well. She cursed under her breath, and froze when a dark laugh alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone.

"That's no way for a lady to talk." His drawl continued. "I will have to wash your mouth out with soap, or maybe I'll stick something else in it, to keep you quiet."

She thrashed on the bed, snarling at him. "I'd bite it off, you fucking monster!" Her voice showing a lot more strength, and certainty then she truly felt in her precarious position.

In an instant his good humor was gone,and the Governor slammed his hands on either side of her restrained shoulders. His eyes narrowing as he whispered dangerously against her ear.

"You're on very dangerous ground here, Margaret."

She shuddered when he used her given name. Everyone called her Maggie, and it was unsettling for him to use the name she was only ever referred to by when she was in trouble, at home, and at school, before the world for all intents and purposes had ended and the dead had risen again.

"I think you owe me an apology, Margaret. I'm giving you a rare opportunity here. And there will be consequences, if you do not comply. Memorize those words."

His hand moved to stroke her hair with surprising tenderness, as he repeated. "There will always be consequences if you do not comply. Do you understand?"

She could tell, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word, and for her own safety, and more for Glenn's, she murmured, fighting against the bile that rose at her words. "I understand. I'm sorry." Her apology didn't meet her eyes, but she'd said the words, and that seemed to please him for the moment. He gave a little nod, and took a key from his pocket, beginning to undo her left wrist. Continuing.

"We're going to sit down to a romantic dinner now, and you will answer my questions. If you do anything to upset me this evening, you will live to regret it. " He promised, and she gave him a little nod. Her jaw tight as he unchained her. She sat up, moving to stroke her wrists, attempting to return circulation to them as he continued with the chains at her ankles.

She noticed, she was dressed again, and her hair was still damp from a bath she didn't recall. Something in the back of her mind reminded her of a conversation between The Governor and Merle. Daryl's brother. How two people could be related and be so different was beyond her. The idea of the blood relation of someone in her dysfunctional but loving group betraying them in such a way shocked her, but of course she hadn't been part of the group when Merle had been left on the roof and only survived by willingly parting with a limb.

She was unprepared as the Governor yanked her from the bed to her feet. She noted numbly that she wasn't wearing her own clothing. Gone were her familiar clothes, and in their place, she wore a simple dress of coral lace. It was exactly the kind of clothing she wouldn't have given a second glance to when she was shopping in stores. It was far too feminine, and showy. It didn't appeal to her tom-boy style, but reminded her of something that her sister Beth would have chosen for a school dance. It was too loose, but food was a commodity that they had all taken for granted before this.

She stumbled as he guided her to the table he had been sitting at while she had slept chained to the bed. He steadied her, pushing her down into the chair opposite his, before moving to take the silver top off of a tray that had been sitting at the table. She blinked when the smells of the abundant food assailed her. Mashed potatoes and gravy, steaming next to a generous slice of turkey. Fresh bread was on the table, with butter and flavored oil waiting to dip it in. Her mouth watered as she glanced back up to him suspiciously. Managing after a moment, her voice raw.

"How do I know it's not poisoned?"

And the Governor laughed, and shook his head. "If.. Well, let's be honest… " he continued as he poured them both a glass of red wine, from what appeared to be an expensive brand. "When I decide to kill you, it won't be anything as common as poisoning. You deserve something more poignant, don't you agree?"

She didn't respond, only lowering her eyes to her plate. Taking a fork, and getting ready to take a bite, but freezing when his hand gripped her wrist, pausing her before she could bring the steaming mashed potatoes to her lips.

"Wouldn't you say grace first, Margaret? I understand your Father's a religious man. Surely he would want that? " He raised a brow, waiting. She gave a mute nod. How did he know her Father was religious? Merle couldn't have told him that. Only Glenn. The idea of what they would have had to do to Glenn for him to share information about her Father, and her or any of their people terrified her.

He waited for a moment before tightening his grip on her wrist, murmuring. "Your prayer?"

And she swallowed, raising her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment before bowing her head, and closing her eyes. Murmuring just loud enough for him to hear.

"Thank you, Lord, for this food. For life, and for the pursuit of liberty. Please keep those we love safe in your hands."

His laughter was her response, before he growled a hearty "Amen. Let's eat."

She relaxed as his hand left her wrist, and focused her attention on the food. Enjoying the taste of a good and fresh meal, still hot, despite herself. It had been a long time since she had eaten like this, and she found herself closing her eyes and just savoring each bite, as if they were her last.

He ate heartily, encouraging her to drink her wine, and to finish her plate, watching her eat as he relaxed, having cleaned his swiftly.

"We need to put some meat back on your bones. You eat all of that, and when you're done. perhaps I will reward you with a dance."

Maggie ate her meal, dreading the contact their bodies would make. Deciding to try and send herself away, when he touched her. She knew there would be much worse to come, but the idea of him holding her as a melody played was enough to make her gaze at the window. It as much smaller then the average window, ensuring that breaking it and attempting to jump through the space it made were out of the question.

He followed her gaze and tilted his head. "Are you so eager to return to my bed, and my chains?"

She shook her head. Taking a hefty gulp of the wine, deciding she would need it. Steeling herself as she considered her tenuous future, and the suffering that was likely to come. Glancing to him and asking quietly, after she had drained her glass.

"May I have more?"

And he laughed, giving a little nod. "We've remembered our manners. Good. I see no unreason to be uncivil, unless provoked." And he rewarded her by filling her glass once more with the red liquid. She gazed at her warped reflection in the fluid of the glass, before raising it once more to her lips. Perhaps he'd let her drink enough so she wouldn't remember the night to come. Somehow, she knew that fate wasn't leading her down a flowery path, and that no quantity of alcohol could numb the pain to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Maggie drained the second glass, watching The Governor warily as he crossed the room to a wind up vitrola. He looked through a stack of records, and she took the moment to slide the serrated knife for the bread across the table, doing her best to keep her movements slow and calculated, all for the benefit of him not noticing.

He held up a record triumphantly, glancing over his shoulder and his eyes full of malice and fire, he murmured. "Put that down. And come here." He set the record in place on the vitrola, keeping his eyes on her. Not moving the needle. Yet.

Caught, she released the knife and rose shakily to her feet. He crossed the space between them, grabbing her hand, and swiftly twirling her around. She blinked in surprise, gasping a little from the pain that shot through her ribs. He released her and she gripped, where he had broken her earlier, peering up to him wide eyed.

He murmured darkly. "A knife? You're not very clever, are you girl? Why do you want to make me angry? " His voice was soft, and her pulse began to quicken, as he gapped the distance between them in a long stride, moving to intimidate her against the wall. Her breath quickened, and she kept her eyes on his, jaw tightening. Trying her best not to show her fear, and failing. Miserably.

He laughed, and pressed his rough palm against her cheek and chin.

"Haven't you learned that I am your future? When that ends is up to you, but it will be a permanent end, little Maggie… and we've just started our romance."

She shuddered, and tried to pull herself away from his palm, eyes lowering. He was not well. That much was clear. She couldn't help feeling that this was all a game to him, a terrible game with the stakes far more dangerous then any she had played before. His other hand moved to mirror the one already pressed to her cheek, and a firm grip on her he pressed his lips to her hungrily.

She kept her teeth clenched, as his tongue forced it's way through the tight purse of her chapped lips. She squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of his wet tongue pressing against her teeth. He gave a little growl and ground his hips against hers, and tears inadvertently spilled down her cheeks. He removed first his tongue and then his lips, thumbs of both of his hands moving to wipe away her tears, whispering.

"Hush now."

And he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her, in what would have been a comforting embrace if it had come from nearly anyone else, but as it was, it made her blood run cold, as he stroked her hair, hushing her.

She blinked back her tears and took a shaky breath, shuddering as she felt his nose press against her temple. The sound of him taking in a deep inhalation of the smell of her hair made goosebumps rise on her skin. And she began to tremble.

He smiled and murmured quietly against the hair over her ear. "You smell like cinnamon." And he released her, crossing the room to return his attention to the record, and the promised dance.

She murmured softly. " Where's Glenn? Is he all right?" Her Southern accent thicker then usual with the emotion inherent in her question.

The Governor's eyes flashed, as he returned his attention to her, his fingertips tightening on the needle of the vitrola he was just getting ready to place.

"Mention his name to me again, and I'll bring you bits of him for supper every night."

She gritted her teeth, and the Governor added. "He's alive. I'll tell you that. And if you're a good girl, I won't kill him. I'll let him live, as my gift to you. But you're going to have to do a lot better then you've been doin', little lady. Do you understand?"

She grit her teeth and gave a little nod, and he relaxed, placing the needle on the record. The sounds of mournful music, and a bleating trumpet beginning to play with a surprising jazz undertone. He murmured quietly as the sound began to fill the room, pulling her to him. "Josie Miles, singing Mad Mama's Blues. I've always liked it."

The resolute tone of the singer filled the room. The lyrics catching her instantly as he began to dance with her, leading her flawlessly around the room, as she listened closely to the lyrics, hoping for some insight in this monster who held her.

"Want to set the world on fire.

That is my one mad desire.

I'm a devil in disguise.

Got murder in my eyes.

Now I could see blood running through the streets.

Now I could see blood running through the streets.

Could see everybody laying dead right at my feet.

The man invented war sure is my friend.

The man invented war sure is my friend.

Don't believe that I'm sinking?

Just look at what a hole I am in."

The music moved to double time, and she blinked in surprise when he released her for a moment to do a bastardized version of the Charleston, a grin spreading across his face, before the music slowed again to the mournful, sound that fit perfectly against the words of madness that brought The Governor such pleasure. He pulled her close, beginning to sing along, his voice deeper, and more melodic then she would have imagined, creating a duet that left her terrified.

Give me gunpowder, give me dynamite.

Give me gunpowder give me dynamite.

Yes, I'd wreck the city. Wanna blow it up tonight."

The music quickened again, and he gripped on to her hand, quick stepping, and taking her along for the movement, quick leaning left, and then right one, two. One, two before the song returned to the familiar tempo of earlier. His voice robust as he sang along.

"I took my big Winchester down off the shelf.

I took my big Winchester down off the shelf.

When I get through shooting there'll be nobody left."

Releasing Maggie for a moment, before moving to switch records, the more familiar sounds of Cab Calloway and "It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing."

He used it as an excuse to throw her around the room, and though it hurt her rib, he was careful not to drop her this time. A boyish light in his eyes as he danced with her, kicking his feet, and flipping her over, and swirling her around until she was gasping for breath. He laughed, and let the record continue with The Jitter Bug, and moving to guide her to the bed.

"Rest."

And she sat on the edge, but tensed with realization that being this close to him on the bed wasn't likely to end well.

He climbed behind her on the bed, and began to unzip the back of her dress, his lips following the trail as it revealed her flesh.

He whispered against the skin as she shuddered.

"If you convince me that you enjoy tonight, I'll let you have an hour with Glenn tomorrow." He promised, and the offer was something and she blinked, glancing over her shoulder to him. And he grinned a lopsided grin, moving to slide the shoulders of the dress down murmuring.

"I'll have you either way. But depending on how you react, will determine if you are punished, or rewarded."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She knew what was coming was inevitable, and still everything inside of her heart told her to fight for everything that she could do to prevent it. He murmured.

"Come, Margaret. Come to bed."

And the name, that was her name, but wasn't, too, released part of her. This was survival, and her best chance was with Glenn. And she needed to know he was alive. They would escape together, she promised herself. And push all of this away.

She opened the door of her heart, and tugged Maggie inside it's protective walls, and shoved Margaret out and it was Margaret who grudgingly turned to face him, and Margaret's shaking hands that undid the buttons of his shirt.

And Maggie silently cried and screamed within the walls of her heart, at the scene her body was taking part of, while she, was somewhere else. Somewhere with a future.


	4. Chapter 4

The rustle of leaves, and dragging feet in fast pursuit, the familiar sound of gnashing teeth, and guttural monstrous cries from decaying lips, drawn back to show the blackened teeth of the hungry, just out of reach. She ran, and ran, and no matter how fast she moved, they gained on her.

The stench of rot turned her stomach, even in her nightmare, and it was with a sinking feeling of realization, she began to fall. Knowing the outcome, before she even saw the twisted roots of a fallen tree in her path, that caught the front of her boot, and she screamed as she struggled to catch herself, so she could get up and away quickly, before the growing horde devoured her.

A hand tightened around hers, and pulled her to her feet, and Maggie gazed up in relief to see Glenn's face. His lips brushed hers, but only for a moment, as he gripped her hand, breaking the kiss to whisper. "Run." And with him, they ran through the dense forest, every moment, putting more space between them, and their undead marathon companions.

She relaxed, gasping for breath when they got to a clearing, bending, her hands moving to rest on the tense muscles of her sweat and denim clad thighs. Managing between gasps. "Glenn, do you see the cabin?" She pointed at a log cabin, painted bright red. He nodded, and grabbed her hand again, murmuring. "Night's falling. It's our best bet."

And they ran toward it. The sounds at the edge of the forest, from the trees, reminding them that they were far from alone. Glenn tried the door first, reaching it. Frowning when it didn't open. He threw his body at the wood of the door, his shoulder cracking and splintering where he had made impact. A large splintered piece of redwood lodged deep in his shoulder. She ran to remove it, wincing at the cry of pain that escaped his lips as she struggled to dislodge the jagged piece of wood impaling the man that she loved.

CLICK.

The sound was louder then it should have been. Echoing above the sounds of any of the Walkers, or of the cries of agony from Glenn. Now unlocked, the door swung open, and standing in the frame was the imposing figure of the Governor. Darkness began to fill in, like the sands in an hourglass, until she could see nothing.

The screams that woke her didn't sound like her own, but she realized as she gasped for breath and the sound stopped that the source had been within her throat.

She struggled for air, her eyes scanning the room wildly, sitting up and realizing she wasn't bound to the bed. Instantly on her feet to find something to defend herself with, and kill the Monster that held her.

"Tsk. Tsk."

She froze and turned to face the breathing creature in the armchair, armed, and shaking his head, and murmuring.

"You've failed another test, Margaret."

She swallowed, sitting back down on the bed, more delicately then she had rose. Her body ached, everywhere. The ribs were doing far worse today after the painful encounters of last night. Raising her eyes to his and managing. "I have to use the bathroom."

He smiled and rose, holstering his weapon, and moving to guide her again to her feet. "Of course." And he shoved her toward the bathroom. She stumbled, but he was there to make sure she continued into the little room with pink and white tiles, and a flat mirror that covered the majority of the wall behind the sink. She didn't have long to take in the scenery, before he was removing the expensive aqua blue satin lingerie he had made her sleep in.

Jaw tight, she watched the fabric pool at her feet, and glanced down mutely at the marks all over her flesh. Ugly marks where he had bit her. Hickeys that were darker, and more painful then any she had received from the stumbling attempts of her high school beaus. No, he knew how to deliver pain. Other things too, but she didn't want to consider those. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I thought you had to use the toilet." He reminded her, lifting the toilet cover and moving to push her now nude body down on the toilet. She shuddered, and watched him. Giving it a shot. "I can't while you watch."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Then you don't need to go."

She frowned, and sat on the cold porcelain, lowering her eyes as she focused on relieving herself of her full bladder. Unable to relax enough to urinate in front of him. He watched her placidly, moving to sit across from her on the side of the tub. Reaching over to begin to fill the tub, slipping the metal cork into place to keep the water in, murmuring.

"We have heated water. You were unconscious for your last bath. After last night, you've earned a nice bath. Maybe I'll even let you have bubbles."

Maggie was quiet as the sound of the water encouraged her bladder to empty, and she exhaled, relieved as the pressure that had been building from her kidneys eased and disappeared along with the need to pee out the wine of the night before. She wiped, keeping her eyes averted from his.

The Governor kept his eyes on her, enjoying every second of her discomfort. Enjoying debasing her, she was his his prisoner, and he had big plans for her. He added the bubbles to the filling water, murmuring. "Hot water. The generators provide. " His hand moving to stroke down her cheek, continuing quietly. "I provide for my people." His voice had a level of ferocity that left her as uncomfortable as his observation of her relieving herself. The man was unwell, and she was his current favorite play thing. She rose, slowly, to flush the toilet, and was about to wash her hands, when he tugged her, lifting her with ease, as if she were a feather, and setting her in the tub, his rough hands exploring her body as he set her in the scalding water.

Gasping at the feeling of it, and attempting to protect herself, and her bare flesh from his continued assaults. Her eyes widened, at the hot of the water, gasping.

"It burns. "

A smile slowly rerouted it's way along his lips below his mustache, the steam rising around her, his hands holding her as still as possible, as she thrashed, the heat from the water causing her skin to redden in the water. Tears of pain and terror flooded her eyes, as she watched the strange way her skin brightened with the heat under the obscuring bubbles of the bubblegum scented childrens bubble bath he had poured in the water. After she could take it no longer, she begged, gasping for breath.

" Please! Please, enough! What do you want!? WHY!? I did everything you wanted last night!"

Shuddering at the memory and the bile that rose in her throat, she had bruises all over her hips and thighs, from where he had gripped her, in addition to the bite marks and hickeys he had marked her with. The memory of the cruelty he had shown her, refreshing her reserves of tears.

His smile widened, and he turned the hot water off after another moment. Enjoying watching her pain, and her desperation. Turning the opposite faucet to let the cold water in. She pushed herself to that side of the tub, trembling as the cold water hit her flesh. Blinking back tears, and doing her best to catch her breath, before raising accusatory eyes to him, Repeating her earlier question, her voice raw.

"Why?!"

A dark chuckle was her response, as he watched her anger, and the way the water and bubbles filled around her body, obscuring the marks he had made on her flesh the night before. He gazed over them, enjoying his handiwork before responding simply.

"Why not?"

She blinked, shaking her head a little. It wasn't an answer. She lowered her eyes to the bubbles, doing her best to catch her breath, and let her body relax, now that the hot water had been tempered from scolding to comfortable, but her body still smarted from the burn, on top of the other injuries he had caused her.

There was a knock on the door in the main hallway, and the Governor took out a pocket watch from the front of his shirt that was reminiscent of her Father's. She frowned, swallowing hard, and staring blankly at the dial. Calling to the door. "Enter." Shooting a conspiratorial smile to Maggie. "Right on time."

Rising to open the bathroom door, the Governor made it in three steps, and her eyes followed him as he stepped aside, and in walked Merle, holding up a terribly battered man, his eyes both nearly swollen shut, lacerations covering his face, and bruises in every color on the wheel of new and faded. She paled when she saw him, tears filling her eyes, whispering her prayer. "Glenn."

Struggling to see her through the swelling of his eyes, and the concussion that blurred his vision further, he managed, his voice raw and desperate.

"Maggie? Maggie, is that you?!" And his tears spilled down his cheeks, and he ignored the salty burn of them in his wounds, struggling blindly to try and get to his beloved.

Rolling his eyes, the Governor broke the moment, by slapping him hard across the face.

"NO!" Maggie's voice matched the sound, and Merle gave her a withering look to silence her. Warning there. She withdrew her demand, adding only another plea. It had worked earlier. "Please."

The Governor paused in his attack, gazing between the two love birds and murmuring. "An hour. Merle'll be with you, so don't try anything that'll make me want to hurt you more then I all ready do." His voice smooth as he moved past the door, giving them the one hour he had promised. His word was worth something, it seemed, if he was able to hurt her in the process. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that Glenn was alive. And with her. She reached for his hand, and he knelt next to the tub, holding on to her hand tightly, kissing every inch of her fingers, knuckles, palms and wrists.

" Maggie. I love you. I never thought I'd see you again. " He coughed, then. A shaking sound, liquid in his lungs, and she tightened her hand on his.

"I love you, Glenn. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?!"

Maggie didn't respond. What could she say? How could she tell the man she loved all that had happened. She sunk further into the water, the bubbles beginning to diminish and pop. By the time the hour was up, all of her bruises would be visible. She had to hope his eyesight wouldn't be good enough to see. She lied, shaking her head and murmuring.

"No. I'm fine. He didn't hurt me." Her voice quavered with the lie. " I'm fine. I'm sorry they hurt you. I love you, Glenn. It's all going to be all right. "

Merle snorted in the corner, adding his two cents.

"No bruises like that show a good time, Farm-Girl. I've left plenty in my time. No good lying."

She glared at Merle. Clearly it was the Governor's decree that Glenn know what had happened to her. She wouldn't be able to spare him of the horrors she had endured, but she would do her best. She grimaced, and closed her eyes as the terror in Glenn's voice nearly broke her heart.

"Maggie, what bruises? What did he do to you!? " His hands moved to either side of her cheeks, unwittingly mirroring a motion The Governor had done several times through her time bend held her. It was all she could take, and she began to bend. The horrors of what had happened to him. To her. To her sense of security. To their happy future. And she began to sob. Her body sagging. He climbed in, clothing and all, to hold her in the tub. Their tears salting the bathwater, as they held on to each other. All words of comfort falling flatter then they should, but at least there was some peace in each others arms.

A brief respite in this never ending nightmare.


End file.
